


Sauron Finally Gets Laid, Elf Style

by Anntipasto



Series: Requests [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, First Age, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Second Person, Sauron leaves the reader unsatisfied, Technically you consent, You are Maedhros's Wife, because he's an asshole, but realistically a prisoner cannot consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 17:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21360349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anntipasto/pseuds/Anntipasto
Summary: Maedhros's Wife has been captured with him, and fears for her husband's future. She would do anything to help him out, even something all other elves would rather die than do.
Relationships: Maedhros | Maitimo/Maedhros's Wife, Maedhros's Wife/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Requests [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1489280
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Sauron Finally Gets Laid, Elf Style

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pixienyx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixienyx/gifts).

> Sauron: Arda's hottest murderer

“Your husband has nearly lost his will to live,” Sauron said delightedly into your ear. “Ever since I made him believe we killed you.”

You brushed your left thumb over the base of your ring finger, feeling where the wedding ring Maedhros had given you had left an indentation. It had been over a month, but the groove the ring left behind hadn’t faded. You had tried pleading with Sauron to spare your husband since the two of you had been captured, but none of your pleas had worked. Of course, Maedhros had begged the same for you. And now, he was tortured daily, believing you dead, and still hadn’t cracked. You knew he would die before he said anything. From Sauron’s reports, you knew he was suffering more each day. “I’ll do anything,” you choked once more. “Please, please release him.”

“Anything?” Sauron pretended to think.

“I would do anything to save my husband.”

“Since you asked so politely,” he responded, sarcastically.

“Is there nothing I can offer you? To let my husband know I’m still alive, or, at least, to decrease his suffering? Surely there is something I can do, I’m begging!”

This time, he truly took a moment to think. “There is something all elves refuse to do. Usually, they beg Mandos to collect their souls before I can finish with them.”

You blush and look away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He steps directly in front of you, hands on your hips. “I think you do.”

You twist your wrists around in your chains, wondering whether to try and kick him, or… “If I do, will you let me back with Maedhros? Will you stop tormenting him?”

“I don’t think so. I may let up on his torture, for a day or two.” His hands trail up your body, and you bite your lip.

“You have to let him know I’m alive, too. Please, please,” your voice drops as you press yourself against him, “please?”

“Since you asked so nicely…” His lips press against yours, as hot as a flame but without the burn. He’s gentle, much more so than you expected, and kisses just the same as your husband once did.

You want to melt into it; you want to give in. It’s been months since you last felt any physical contact that wasn’t pain. Still, this is your tormentor, not your husband. You at least must ask one last thing. “You will do it? You swear, on anything you find worthy to swear upon?”

He smirks as he kisses you again. “I swear, upon my honor.” Another kiss. “Upon yours.” His hands knead your breasts over your shirt, and you almost gasp at how much you’ve missed that feeling. “And upon the Valar, if that means more to you.”

It doesn’t quite sound sincere, but you think that is the best you’ll get from him. You want to pull away still--this will certainly ensure something in you will be wrong forever--but you allow it, for Maedhros’s sake.

One of his hands pulls your hair, gently, and he moves to kiss your earlobe. You hold back a noise of contentment. When he moves back to your lips, you automatically pull away.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Nervous?”

Guilt is flooding your system. Maedhros is the only one you could ever possibly be loyal to, wasn’t that the vow you took when you got married? By having sex, by being raped, by… You aren’t sure what to call it, but you know it is wrong. It broke your sacred marriage bond, even as it kept your husband from more harm. Death would be a mercy to you both, but Sauron would never allow it. This is all you can do. You shake your head silently.

“Then stay complacent and let me have you.” His countenance changes swiftly from loving and soft to lustful and dark. His kisses are harder this time, needier.

Your wrists pull against the chains above your head, automatically trying to… what? Embrace him? Push him away? You don’t know. His hands trace down to your sides and suddenly tickle your ribs. “Mmf!” you protest against his lips, wrists slamming against the chains in a painful reflex. You feel him smirk against you and move his hands back up to your breasts.

He’s kissing you as desperately as a teenager kissing his first girlfriend, yet still skillfully. You can’t stop thinking of Maedhros, and yet… and yet…

His hands move down, wrapping around you and pulling you closer by your ass. You chirp in protest.

“Are you enjoying this?” He starts to tug at the waist of your pants, lowering his voice to dangerous levels. “Tell me the truth.”

“Yes,” you mutter, ashamed, and bury your face in your shoulder.

“Good.” He pulls your pants down and your shirt up, completely exposing you to the cool dungeon air in half a moment. In the other half, he has exposed himself, too, and is touching himself in front of you.

You groan into your shoulder. You wish it was Maedhros in front of you, even chained up as you are. Still, you’re horny now, you want the contact, you want him in you, you want to feel  _ good _ for once in this wretched place.

His body presses against yours, skin as hot as his lips, and you close your eyes, and you remember your wedding night with Maedhros. This is the ultimate betrayal, is it not? And if you were to call out to Mandos to take your soul, if you were to die, surely Maedhros would soon follow…

You open your eyes to see Sauron staring. No, he would never let Maedhros die. This has to happen. And if that thought manages to excite you, just a little, you would never say it aloud. If a slight, “please,” was to escape your lips, you would never tell a soul.

He takes his time, at first, accustoming you to the stretch of sex after so long without even hugging another being. His hands are in your hair, across your body, around your neck. You whimper at being unable to touch back. You have been standing for so long, and you long for a bed, but this is still better than remaining in agony day after day.

“Do you still like this, then, sweetheart? Me in you? You haven’t begged for your soul to be taken yet, have you, whore? Does this not make me married to you, by your silly laws and customs? Oh, I cannot wait to tell Maedhros.”

You choke on your breath for a second. “Please do not tell him,” you whisper, and he thrusts into you. “Ay-! Please, he doesn’t even yet know I’m alive.”

“That was never part of the deal, sweetheart.” His pace quickens, and you gasp in pleasure. “This… was.”

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, trying not to picture Sauron’s eyes staring into you, trying not to imagine what it would be like if he were to remove his shirt. “Mae,” you moan, but you both know who you are truly calling out for. Maedhros, Mairon, it doesn’t matter to you for a brief moment.

“Come on, elf, ride me,” Sauron grunts, and you move your hips as best you can. It seems it still does not satisfy him, and he lifts your legs to wrap them around him.

Pressed up against the wall, mouth mashed against his, you wish you weren’t feeling such bliss. A hand closes your airways, and you feel yourself tighten against him. You press into him as much as you can, enjoying it while it lasts. And last it does, for thrust after thrust, and you feel your own enjoyment building. Your lungs choke for air. Your body begs for release. Your wrists hurt, but you can hardly feel it, just his tongue in your mouth. And then…

And then all too soon, it’s over, and you’re left dripping onto the floor as he tucks himself back into his pants.

“No, please,” you whimper, “I’m not done, please!”

The corner of his mouth tilts up as he regards you, hair a mess, clothes askew. “That wasn’t part of the deal either. I think I’ll go break the news to your darling husband now. Maybe I’ll bring him in here to let him see you begging for me to finish you off.”

“No, no, please!”

You are pleading to a deaf audience now, and the door slams shut with a finality behind him. You wish you could say you hadn’t enjoyed it. You wish you could take it back and still have saved Maedhros from more torment. You wish you had let your soul leave your body before it had happened. You could only pray now that Sauron would have one last mercy and let Maedhros die before you were forced to admit the truth to him.


End file.
